High Stakes Seduction - Book 5 (16 page)

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

The only "girl" he could be talking about was Angela.
Damn
. I told her to stay out of this.

"And your Naomi seems to be slipping, too. Don't forget, we have an agreement. And time is running out."

The phone went dead.

Chapter Forty-Four

MARIA

I opened my eyes, and quickly shut them again. I still had the remnants of my headache from yesterday, but at least it was no longer a migraine. Still, the bright sunlight hurt my eyes. I had spent most of yesterday in bed, ruing my foolishness from two nights ago.

I knew better. I was
so
not a drinker! But Ange and I had been excited about my upcoming operation, the recent gallery showing, and everything else—
especially the goodnight kiss
–that we demolished a bottle and a half of wine between us.

Angela somehow made her way into work after our semi-drunken night.
I don't know how she does it
.
I'm such a lightweight when it comes to drinking.

I was grateful she'd just let me sleep, and thankfully, now, yesterday's migraine had finally disappeared.

Pulling myself up and out of bed, I settled into my chair, always stationed next to the bed. I wheeled into the kitchen, longing for a cup of coffee even though it was almost afternoon.

I wasn't a huge coffee drinker, either, but on days like this, caffeine seemed the best thing to help take that damn edge off. I watched the coffee drip into my cup, inhaling the fumes, hoping to push away the fog that still seemed to be settled in my brain.

I wasn't sure what time Ange had gotten home last night. I glanced over at the table, noticing my note from yesterday was still sitting in the middle of it.

Yesterday's 'morning after' had started with such a hangover, the first one I'd had in years. I'd made my way to the bathroom managing to unceremoniously relieve myself of the rest of the wine sitting on my stomach. Then I'd washed my face, and headed for the kitchen, hoping that breakfast would help me feel better.

Ange had done her best not to laugh at me, I'm sure I looked pretty haggard. But when she offered me some of her scrambled eggs, I almost lost the rest of whatever was left in my stomach.

"Sis, you should just go back to bed," she'd told me. "There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

She was right. After she'd left for work, I was listless, and couldn't focus on anything. And the migraine just got worse. I'd tried eating, but even that was difficult.

About two o'clock I'd finally given up, deciding the best place for me was on my back under the blankets. So I'd written the note and gone to my room to pull the covers over my head. It hadn't taken long to fall asleep in my cozy cocoon, and I'd been dead to the world until a few minutes ago when I opened my eyes. I couldn't believe I'd slept for almost twenty-two hours!

Ah, the coffee was done. I pulled the cup out and wheeled over to the table. At least today the light didn't hurt my eyes so much, even if the background pain was a residual reminder of yesterday's migraine.

I sipped the hot brew, letting it wash down my throat, warming my stomach. That's when I realized how hungry I was. The last thing I'd eaten was lunch yesterday, and my stomach was protesting loudly.

I turned and wheeled over to the refrigerator, pulling open the door. I grabbed a basket of strawberries and a small pitcher of cream. Then I wheeled back to the sink, rinsing the strawberries and slicing them into a bowl. I poured a little cream on top and took them back to the table.

Strawberries and cream… food for the soul, and the migraine hangover. Just the right amount of sweetness combined with the slippery slickness of cream. My tummy welcomed the treat.

I pulled out my cell phone from the pocket on my wheelchair.

"
Thanks for letting me sleep in, Sis. I'm back in the land of the living. Whew. Got any ideas for dinner?"
I typed, then pushed send.

The coffee was finally starting to hit, and I was beginning to feel normal again. My next order of business was finishing up my inventory before the testing and surgery. I expected there would be physical therapy afterwards, so even though I might have some time to get started on my commissioned paintings, I wouldn't be doing much other painting for a while.

It was four-thirty by the time I finished figuring out which items were ready to be hung, or to be leased, and which still needed to be photographed for the catalog and insurance. I arched my back, pressing against it with my hands. I'd been bent over most of the afternoon, going through the paintings that were stacked against the wall. I felt stiff, and I twisted my body in my chair, trying to relieve the tension in my back.

Maybe it was time to take some medication. I'd been trying to taper off, but the bending and stretching today had caused an aching that might interfere tonight with my sleep. I'd give it an hour or so to see if the ache calmed down.

I pulled out my phone, dialing Angela's office number. She didn't answer, so I figured she must be busy. I looked up Antonio's number in our little phonebook. He'd asked specifically for one of the washes I'd done from Ange's photos. I had no idea about his décor and needed to find out if he had a preference for the frame. I still hadn't mounted or framed them, and since he was so interested, it would be easy to accommodate whatever his needs were.

"Mancini Enterprises," said a pleasant voice. "Antonio Mancini's office."

"Hello, this is Maria Tilson, Angela Tilson's sister. I'd like to speak with Mr. Mancini please."

"Certainly, please hold." The line went silent for a few seconds.

"Maria?" came Antonio's voice. "Is Angela okay?"

"Sure. I mean, why wouldn't she be?" I heard the tinge of concern in his tone, and wondered what he was talking about.

"I called down today to talk with her, and Priscilla, my floor manager, said she hadn't been in. That's not like Angela. She's usually punctual and responsible. Is she sick?"

"I don't think so, as far as I know, she isn't here. Give me a sec, I'll check her room." I set down the phone, and went into the hallway, tapping lightly at her door. No answer. I pushed the door open, peeking in. No Angela.
If she wasn't at work, where would she be?

"Sorry," I said into the phone. "I just checked. She's not here. She must have left before I got up. I had a horrible migraine yesterday, so I went to bed early. I didn't even know the world existed until I woke up this morning about noon. You don't think something's happened do you?"

My simple question began to develop a life of its own as the silence on the other end of the phone stretched on.

"Maria, when was the last time you saw Angela?" he asked.

"Yesterday morning before she left for work. Antonio, what are you suggesting?" My anxiousness was quickly blossoming into something more. Much more.

"She came into my office yesterday, just about quitting time. We had a conversation about our upcoming trip to Europe, but then she left. No one seems to have seen her since. Are you sure she came home last night?"

"Why wouldn't she?" I wasn't sure what was going on, but now I really
was
worried. "Angela never stays out without letting me know. That isn't like her."

What if Angela had
not
come home last night? I'd just assumed she was being nice by not disturbing my sleep, but what if something had happened to her? I looked over at my note, still sitting where I'd put it the day before. My imagination filled with all kinds of bizarre scenarios.

"Do you think something is wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I don't want you to worry,” he tried to assure me. "There must be a reasonable explanation for this. Does she have any friends you can contact? Someone she might've stopped by to see, and then maybe stayed over?"

I wracked my brain, trying to remember if there was anyone from high school or from the 'old days' that she might've stayed in contact with. "No. She hasn't bothered to reestablish many of her friendships after she came back from college. After the accident. We just kind of moved on, the two of us."

"Okay. Maybe it's nothing. I'll get to the bottom of this. And try not to worry. You just stay there, and I'll call you back when I know something."

"Antonio. You know it would be hard for me to leave, even if I wanted to. And I have no idea where she might be. But you need to call me back if you find out anything. And I do mean…
anything
."

I couldn't bear to think about something happening to my sweet sister. But she had never done anything like this before. Ever since the accident, she'd consistently kept me informed about what was happening, maybe even more than she needed to. It was just in her nature to be overprotective. She was a lot like my mom in that way.

But…
What if Mancini's concerns had some merit?
As I sat there, worrying that something might've happened to prevent Angela from coming home last night, I started to shake. I'd never had that happen before, and I didn't know how to stop it, and that scared the hell out of me.

Who could I call? What could I do?
I continued to shake, a sense of urgency coming over me. I picked up our personal phonebook and started flipping through the pages. Who might be able to help me? Mr. Conner? Well, he did have a private detective. But maybe it was too early for that? Then I saw it: Ryan Burton, Assistant D.A.

Hmmm. He must have resources, contacts, someone who could help me figure out what happened to my sister. She'd even gone out with him a couple of times.
Surely he would be interested in finding out what happened.

I keyed in the numbers listed after his name, and sat there tapping my foot, waiting for the phone to be answered. I prayed I would get a live person, and not voicemail. I wasn't sure I could leave a coherent message that would make sense and not sound like an idiot.

"Ryan Burton."

"Hello Ryan, you don't know me, but…" All of a sudden I felt foolish and nervous. What if there was nothing wrong, and I was exaggerating a problem that didn't exist?

"Yes…?" I could hear the impatience on the other end of the line. This was the end of the day, and I could hardly fault him for not wanting to take a call.

"My name is Maria Tilson. You know my sister, Angela."

"Yes. I know Angela."

"Well, I think she's missing."

"What? You
think
she's missing?" At least that got his attention.

"I think she may not have come home last night. She's never done that before, she's always told me when she would be late, or staying somewhere else. In fact, I actually thought she had come home. But I don't know for sure, or I mean I didn't know for sure."

"Wait a minute. Maria, is it? Why don't you start at the beginning. Maybe I can follow this better."

He was right, I was rambling. I took a deep breath, and told him about my call with Antonio, my migraine, and how no one had actually seen Angela since yesterday afternoon.

"So you don't know for sure if she came home or not?" He asked at the end of my explanation.

"Correct. I thought she was just being nice, and not waking me up, but now I think she didn't come home at all."

"Have you called her?"

"Yes, I texted her at about noon, but she never responded. I wasn't surprised at that, she can't take calls while she's on the floor. But, then I called her after I talked with Antonio Mancini."

"What does Mancini have to do with this?"

"He's her boss. But I needed to talk with him about a painting-lease program."

"A what?"

"A way for offices to rent my paintings."

"Mm. Well, let me see what I can find out for you. You may want to file a missing persons, but that's up to you. Do you think there's been foul play, or could she have been injured? Have you checked the hospitals yet?"

I sat there in silence. Angela had taken over when I'd been injured. Maybe this was a kind of payback. "I don't know. I mean, I hate to think that anything has happened, but I just don't know. I don't think she has any enemies if that's what you mean."

"Has she told you about this Children's Academy business?"

"Excuse me?"
What was he talking about?

"The South Side Children's Academy. Has she shared her suspicions with you?"

Suspicions?
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Sorry." I had never heard of the South Side Children's Academy.
What was my sister involved with, anyway?

"Okay, never mind. So, the last time you talked with her, was yesterday morning?"

"Yes. The last time Antonio Mancini talked to her was late yesterday afternoon."

"Maria, sit tight while I check things out on this end. In the meantime, you might want to check with the local hospitals to make sure she hasn't been injured. Call her friends, family, anyone who knows her. If you want to file a missing persons report, call the non-emergency number for the police. I'm not the police, but that doesn't mean I don't have resources, or that I can't pull some people in to help me look into this. And try not to worry."